The Art of Dancing and Robot Repair
by Compass West
Summary: Short Oneshot. A Tech Priest finds there are very good reasons why artificial intelligences are blasphemous. Warhammer40k/Borderlands crossover


**The Art of Dancing and Robot Repair**

**Disclaimer: **Warhammer 40k and/or Borderlands do not belong to me. They belong to Games Workshop and 2k respectively.

Magos Killian might have grinned as he looked over the arid landscape. Might have. It was unlikely. He wasn't really a grinning person. More of a cold smile type of guy. He wouldn't have done that either though since his weak fleshy face had been removed several years ago to be replaced with a metal array of scanners and sensors along with a single voice tube connected to what was left of his windpipe.

The landscape in question belonged to a planet named Pandora. It was dry and treeless and everything seemed to exist to kill people. The planet was overrun with creatures known to the locals as 'skags'. Some were small and easily dealt with while others were armour-plated monstrosities that breathed fire or acid. Some also breathed lightning...somehow.

The human inhabitants of the planet were not much better. Many of them were just regular humans but a good many had access to powerful shielding technology and even when their shields were down, their skin was still superhumanly durable, able to block several bullets or full on blasts from rocket launchers, varying from person to person.

The current theory circulating was that Pandora and its inhabitants had been part of some alien biological experiment thousands of years ago. They had certainly found stashes of unfamiliar alien technology around the planet. Not to mention the human weaponry. While all of the human weaponry was kinetic in nature, their makers had clearly taken the idea a bit far. Reports of shotguns that used guided missiles as buckshot and anti-tank sniper rifles were filtering back into him from the Skitarii armies that were pacifying the inhabitants.

Truly, this planet had much to interest any Magos, whether technological or biological in nature.

But that was not why Killian was here. His interest had been stoked by reports of artificial intelligence upon the planet. He knew that such intelligence was heresy, blasphemous to the highest degree. Thus it had been decreed by the ancients when the Iron Men attempted to overthrow them. But, as Killian thought, what the other tech-priests didn't know couldn't hurt them right?

So he had ordered one of the robots captured and brought to him. It hadn't been easy. The little fellow had proven to be quite indestructible, lasbolts leaving temporary burn marks at best. Surely there was much to be learned from studying such a mechanical being, despite what the ancients had said.

"Hello!" an overly excited voice whirred. "I'm CL4P-TP! You can refer to me by my local designation of 'Claptrap'!"

'Claptrap' was a small angular orange robot mounted on single wheel with two spindly looking arms protruding from the sides. The body mounted a circular glass 'eye'. The robot cringed away from the armed Skitarii nearby it. Despite being virtually indestructible, it had a healthy amount of fear. Perhaps too healthy.

'Please don't hurt me,' it whined before apparently going into hysterics. 'PLEASE! I beg you!"

Its screams were muffled as it fell over face first into the ground. But Killian could still hear soft 'aaaah, aaaah' noises coming from it.

He pried the robot up ungently.

"Yes?' the robot replied, back to its chipper attitude in what would seem to be a severe case of mood whiplash. "Can I help you?"

'Yes, you can. You will tell me the origins of the nearby stash of xenos technology. What species is it and where-?'

Killian stopped. The robot wasn't paying attention. Apparently ignoring him, Claptrap had instead started to hop around and thrust its chassis forward and back.

"Look at me ma!' it cried. "I'm dancing! DANCING!" 

Killian gave the closest thing to a sigh he was physically able to do. Maybe the ancients had been right after all...


End file.
